Hephaistions dark secret
by Hephaistion
Summary: Hephaistion tells you how he felt watching Alexander and his lovers, wives, eunuchs... and how he managed to overcome. A little tricky. Not a romance take care.
1. Default Chapter

**Hephaistion's dark secret**

Author: Hephaistion

Type: FPS

Rating: R

Disclaimer:Warnings: D/s, angst, non-con, character death

Pairing: Hephaistion/Cleitos, Hephaistion/Alexander, surprise pairing at the end

Author's note: Thanks to Annie – Enigmata for the translation!

-1-

(POV: Hephaistion, son of Amyntor)

I see your gaze.  
More to the point: I can feel your gaze resting upon me.  
How long has it been, that I felt it for the first time?

I think I was just a child. A boy at the court of Pella, and you were one of  
the most important friends of the king.  
In those days you were looking at me like you did at all the other boys at  
court - disparagingly, almost a little condescendingy, superior.  
We were children to your eyes; you were a man.

And what a man! I remember watching you in secret.  
I wanted to be like you.  
Did you even know that?  
I wanted to be just like you. Hard, manly, dark, reckless, courageous.  
Always a cutting remark upon your lips, sarcastic and mocking; you never  
showed any weakness.

But even then I was aware, that I was just admiring you because you were so  
different than I, myself. Even then.

You were a friend to Philip - nothing more. You were an advisor to him, a  
faithful, loyal companion, leader of his horsemen, you drank with him until  
you dropped under the table where you found him again; you were supporting  
him in everything he did.

But you've always had your affairs, and always with young men - young, but  
men already. You called them Boys and with that showed them their place -  
you never really desired boys, for that you were too strong, too hard - you  
would have destroyed boys with your nature. Not that it wasn't customary in  
Macedon - but you never wanted that. And therefore you probably never even  
noticed the looks I gave you when I was 16 or 17... I was off limits for you  
because I was too young - and I was off limits because I was his friend.

At some point that changed, everything changed.

I remember precisely, when that happened.

And it isn't one of my glorious memories - only now, I dare writing it down,  
entrust it to the scratching feather and the patience of the papyrus. Now  
that you are dead. And nobody will ever know of it, as the moment that I am  
finished writing my tale - mine and yours - this piece of papyrus will be  
sacrificed to fire; I will make a gift to Hephaistos and tear this  
devastating passion from my chest, so that you may stay in the realm of  
Hades ever after, forgotten, and no Eurydike will descend for you to free  
you, my Orpheus... No, I want to forget you and everything that was related  
to you and may still be so.

I have to read it. I have to read it to see it written down, to make myself  
realize that all of it truly happened. And to forget it for all time.

I wish none of this had happened!

What I would give to be able to change the course of history, to be able to  
undo the things that happened. If only there was a bath that could cleanse  
me of you! Of everything you did to me, and I allowed you to. No, I wanted  
it. By all the Erinyes, that are haunting me now, I wanted it; it was my  
choice. I wanted it from the moment I first laid eyes on you. And nothing  
could dissuade me from it. Nothing. Nothing could hinder me from beginning  
this devastating thing, or more truly: from not preventing it. Or have I not  
already begun it all those years ago, by watching you even then? I should  
have kept my eyes to myself, should have controlled myself, but there are  
things stronger than I. So much stronger. Not even love could hinder me -  
not even that. You were so very much stronger than everything I held dear.  
You forced your dark secret upon me, simply by existing. If only I had never  
met you!

But how was I supposed to stay away from you? You were everywhere.  
First, you were everywhere Philip was, then, you were everywhere Alexander  
was.  
You were always there, and so was I - how could we have kept apart?  
How could I have lowered my eyes when you were standing right before me?

I could not do it; I failed.

And not only once.

I want to forget.

Now that you are dead, I want to forget you at last. I will be relieved  
after I finished writing all of this down and my memories have taken shape,  
so that I may destroy them.

But now, for a while, I want to recall; to remember your gaze, and the  
moment when everything changed.

It was on the eve of the great battle...

I was with Alexander, and we talked. The sky darkened and so did the moon -  
and he was afraid; I could almost touch his fear.

We were all afraid.

And there was nothing more natural than to share this fear; to be with the  
one you loved.

I wanted to be with Alexander. I wanted to hold him in my arms, be close to  
him, to hear his voice. Maybe I wanted to make love to him, one last time;  
and so I walked over to him when I saw him praying.

And he talked to me.

Then he embraced me - and left me.

He just walked away, making it obvious he did not want to share with me this  
night that may well have been our very last.

He wanted to be alone.

He preferred loneliness to my company.

My heart contracted painfully, and I felt so many emotions welling up inside  
me... disappointment, loneliness, fear, desperation.

And defiance.

My defiance awoke as I saw your steady gaze.

You were looking at me like never before.

Or maybe I simply did not notice before; I wasn't allowed to notice before.

Your black eyes pierced though me, and I felt as if flames of fire were  
lashing out at me.

No words were necessary. You came to me, and I stood still, spellbound, as I  
have always been - like the rabbit before the snake that will devour it any  
moment, but still it cannot flee.

If only Alexander had not sent me away that evening!

Everything would have turned out differently.

But as it was, your arms closed around me, pulled me away from the eyes of  
the others.

No one saw what truly happened; no one saw what you truly wanted of me. And  
in the darkness of the hidden moon, I lost myself to my blackest fantasy.

It was turning into reality as you forced me to my knees, and I did not  
struggle.

I could sense your contempt for me, feel it and more.

You used me, as you would have used anybody, and it gave you great  
satisfaction that it was I. And that I craved for it.

Long you must have been watching me, to have been so sure about it - you did  
have a long time for doing so.

What I did then, with you, it was not about affection, let alone friendship  
or love. Never did I hate you more than in this night, as you subjugated me  
to your lust, as you took your opportunity, as you violated your king's  
lover. And I allowed you to! Why, only you know, because you had been  
soaking up all my looks from the moment I began gifting them to you. My sick  
fascination for you, for your darkness, for your strength - that is what is  
to blame for all that happened, all that found it's beginning in that night.

TBC


	2. 2

Thank you very much for the reviews... the story will continue, if Annie will translate the whole thing... ;-) "enjoy" the next part of it...

Yes, Cleitos...

My thoughts are wandering over my memories as the feather is scraping across the papyrus.

They called you the Black Cleitos. And black you were indeed... Your hair shimmered like a raven's feathers; even then, when you'd passed more than 40 years on this earth, going on half a century, and your beard was darker than that of the Persians. All this gave you your rakish apperance, which captivated me from the beginning. And then your eyes – dark and inscrutable. There was something to you that – despite knowing better, despite the warning cries of my disturbed heart – drew me to you inescapably.

If he had known...

I do not know what he would have done.

Banished me?

Sent me back?

Would he have considered it betrayal?

Ever since that night a black bond tied us together, you, the first general of the horsemen, and me, the king's lover; a bond you had been knotting carefully.

You knotted it through years of observance, of rivalry, of despise and of dark lust.

Because despise me you did.

You left no doubt about what I was in your eyes – especially when you pushed me away that night after satiating your dark desires through me, with a gesture of unworthiness, degrading me in every way – and after laughing so derisively. Never will I forget your words.

"Come back, boy, when your master neglects you. The black Cleitos always has something left for you!"

No, I never forgot those words.

They have been burned into my mind irrevocably.

I wished to fall in that battle. That I may be granted to sacrifice myself for the one I love, the one I gave my heart to – so as to make amends for allowing myself to become a slave to you, so depraved, so dreadful, so perversely taken with you.

What have you done to me, Cleitos?

What gave you the power to attract me so, even though I knew you were despising me?

Maybe it was just that.

Alexander loved me too much – and not enough.

There was always someone he loved more – without saying so, ever. No, he said something different. That he loved me above all else.

But I know better...

There was always someone else.

First there was Olympias, his mother, then Roxane, his wife. I came second always; never have I been the first one in his heart.

And that led me to despise myself. I did not find myself worthy enough to be the sole owner of Alexander's heart. I was inadequate, not right, not lovable enough. And you, Cleitos, you were able to punish me for my insufficiency. Never would I, myself have been able to harm me the way you did. You were my tool – you have accomplished, what I could not. And you did it so thoroughly...

It was always in the moments he sent me away.

And of those there were a great many.

Alexander wanted to be alone, often.

Alone with others.

Bagoas.

Roxane.

Stateira.

I do not want to jump ahead but when I think of Bagoas, of our first night in Babylon... then I remember how and why all this came to be.

Why you played such a great part in my life, Cleitos.

I miss you.

No one was more shocked than I when you were impaled by Alexander's spear.

What am I to do without you?

How am I supposed to endure the loneliness, when he does not want to have me?

The papyrus is waning, I have to get a new one... while I am young again, striding through the gates of Babylon... with you...

It is incredible.

They are welcoming us, crying "Sikander! Sikander!", and I am captivated by this rejoicing, captivated by the Persian culture, which fascinates me from the beginning.

I am secretly watching you, and I can see in your face what you think of all this.

Yes, it does not suit you. Not you, Cleitos, the Macedonian, the hard one, the Black One... it is too soft for you, too beautiful, too colorful.

But Alexander is filled with enthusiasm and I share his fascination.

Then we reach this secluded area, where only the women of Dareios reside – and male youths who are tall and appear mature, but no shadow of a beard graces their faces; almost like women they look, but yet they are not.

My gaze settles on one in particular – he is beautiful to behold and I look to Alexander.

He, too, is not blind and he has chosen that exact one; I know it for a fact. I recognise all signs of interest in his face and my eyes begin to wander – from this tall, brown-haired young man to Alexander, and finally they come to rest on you, Cleitos... You, too, have noticed, and you are raising an eyebrow in my direction... and your mouth twists into a sneer.

"Come back, boy, when your master neglects you. The black Cleitos always has something left for you!", it echoes in my ears and I know it is exactly what you are thinking in this moment.

I lower my eyes, I want to be somewhere else all of a sudden – young again, alone again with Alexander who is not yet king, and away from all this...

My heart contorts painfully when I see the looks the young Persian is giving Alexander and then also myself. Yes, I know you will spent this night with my king for sure, I think sighing inside, and probably the following nights, too. Another one better than myself, more beautiful, younger and more fitting...

Night is approaching and Alexander tries to break it to me gently when I want to spend some more time with him after the evening meal.

He says something about wanting to turn in early and I should have a good time and he would retire now... and I understand. My heart cramps with longing for him but I can not force anything, and so I go. I go away, leave the hall, leave my pride, when I see you that night - already waiting for me, it appears.

I try to hold back my tears, especially now that I am standing before you.

I can expect no mercy and no comfort from you – I know that.

But still I am here now, I've come to you, and you are not going to spare me.

"He has chosen a beautiful boy, Hephaistion...", you say and your voice slices sharply into my heart. "Know this – he is a eunuch... he does not have what would make him a man. Alexander seems to like that. He seems to like girlish boys. This also explains why he liked you for so long – but now, Hephaistion, you are growing up, you are an adult, beard marring your pretty face after only a day's march – and your body is hard and lined with muscles... compare yourself to him, Hephaistion! He is made for love, you are a warrior. Your heart on the contrary is as soft as that of a maiden in love. But he whom you want, he does not want you. Not anymore. And you are walking around here with the heart of a maiden and the body of a man. What is with you, Hephaistion? What do you really want?"

'You are so right, Cleitus!' I would love to scream that right into your face. But I stay silent, I listen, I shake my head and shrug my shoulders.

What you are telling me is the truth.

I should at last accept that it is not me he wants. Not like I want him. He has humored me long enough but now there are others; others who fit better, who are more beautiful, more willing, more charming.

'What now, Cleitos?', I think. 'Do you not want me either? Not even for that? Look at me, I am here... make my pain go away, the pain in my heart, by numbing my body – what else am I supposed to do? What am I to say so that you understand at last what I want from you?'

And you understand...

You understand so quickly, and so well.

You take me with you into your chamber, the one Alexander appointed you as a high-ranking general, and as the door slams shut behind us I see the wild beast in your eyes, the undisguised hunger, and I do not know what has gotten into me because now I even encourage you to have your way with me and spend yourself.

The marks you are leaving on me throughout the night mingle conveniently with the wounds, scrapes and lashes that are still covering my body from the last battle.

I only finally call an end to it when I cannot stop crying anymore.

Time heals all wounds; and so it did with the ones Alexander delt me in Babylon and those you bestowed upon me.

I do not know why I wanted it, but even now I still know that I needed it.

Alexander send for Bagoas every night, or more truly, Bagoas was just there and I did not come anymore – I did not even try to reach him anymore, immediately withdrawing of my own accord every time, instead.

You never came to me, Cleitos. You always waited until I could not endure any longer, and then I did come – to you.

You were there.

You sent away anyone when I came.

No one ever gave you what I did – the satisfaction of getting at Alexander by degrading the one who was officially the companion of the king.

It was I – not Bagoas, the eunuch – he was in the king's bed but everyone knew I was his Patroclus.

Patroclus!

What mockery of my love!

Yes, I was Patroclus, but he was not Achilles. Achilles never had an – an...

My words are failing me when I think of Bagoas.

Yes, he was so beautiful.

He still his, today, and his eyes shimmer with sadness when he lays them upon me. I have no idea why, but there is something in his eyes that touches me strangely. It seems as if he wanted to apologize for his existence – but he is there, and I am not.

At Alexander's side, in all those nights that were cold for me and lonely, unless the pain grew so strong that I came to you, Cleitos... because the hurts you inflicted upon me numbed me to all that raged inside. It felt good to know that there was something that was more painful than the unbearable.

You were severe, you were cruel, you were merciless, and you hated me.

You hated me two-fold: For what I was – and for who I was. In me you could hate him, through me you could hurt him. And I knew one day you would use this against him.

Even then I had that feeling.

In Babylon, during those countless nights, so cold and dreadful, when I was tossing and turning restlessly until the dull pain defeated me and I threw myself at your feet again and again, and you made such a mess of me that I had no choice but to hide myself for days on end.

He would never have noticed!

He did not want me anymore after all.

And you can hide a lot beneath long robes.

I started painting my eyes with kohl – maybe Alexander would like me more if I looked like his playmate, but he just smiled and gave a half-hearted compliment.

Your judgement was much harsher.

I still remember what you said - and what you did to me that night.

How could I forget!

Cleitos, how could I forget you.

TBC


	3. 3

Thank anybody for your FB! I know, it's a dark story... but life isn't peachy.

3-

Roxane.

He had to have her, he was so in love, so obsessed with the idea of marrying her.

Bagoas was now experiencing the same I did – at least for a while. Later Alexander changed his mind and shared his bed with both him and her.

I became aware of that only through rumors – because I was left on the outside looking in, he never spared a thought for me or cared for me. I was his good friend, his best friend, the one who knew him best, who understood him best, the one he trusted – but I ceased to be who I was before.

I was not in his arms anymore, in his heart, in his bed.

And now there was this woman.

I hated her from the very first moment, because I knew she would be able to give him what I never could. And this was the fate Bagoas and I both shared; he, too, was unable to gift the king with an heir.

The wedding was one vicious thorn, coldly and cruelly trusting itself into my heart.

Alexander in love – and exuberant – and I in the background; I tried to force a smile but – it died upon me with the barren winter of my soul.

And I felt your eyes upon me, again.

'You see?', they say, 'not only does he prefer a boy over you, but also a woman. You are finished, Hephaistion, he never loved you, he never will. You are not the second, you are the third – or you are no one at all. Just one of many.'

I swallow my tears; again I am back there, he is celebrating and I see how happy he is. Hidden in my pocket is the ring I bought for him in Egypt... for so long I have wanted to give him this ring but there was no right moment to be found, and now it is now or never...

Quietly I slip into the chamber where he is already awaiting her, and he looks at me surprised, my Alexander – I name him thus once more, in secret, only for myself; it has been a long time since last I dared to name him thus... – and I slip the ring on his finger, and I cry, because I know I have lost him, if not in Babylon then here and now. And it is a parting gift but he does not know that.

He is far too happy, he does not notice anything, and then she appears and I am forgotten; a shadow that dissolves, that dissolves into the night like mist, and I stumble, blinded by tears, and your arms, Cleitos, they catch me, hold me, while I cry without restraint, sobbing like a child.

You are strange.

You do not drag me into your chamber by my hair, do not rip the clothes of my body that you have ridiculed before, you do not force me to kneel before you, do not beat me, do not tear me apart.

You take me into your arms and hold me close.

Softly, your hands are carassing me while I weep, and you try to calm me down.

"Cleitos...", I whisper. "Cleitos, don't do this to me. I do not want your pity."

No, that is not what I want – that is not why I am here, for that I have not chosen you.

You nod, and I feel your grip tightening the way I longed for; you have wrapped my hair around your fist and are pushing me along in front of you, into the darkness of night. And only when my physical torment becomes so great that I have no room left inside me for thoughts of what hurts me so deeply – only then I can forget and try to free myself from all of it.

Your end...

I still see it before my eyes.

You dared to attack him.

You told him your mind – the one of the old warrior, the general that had already stood his ground under Philip's reign – and he did not want to hear any of it.

You refused to give him your respect and you talked yourself into a frenzy – and risked your neck with it.

I feared for your life, Cleitos... I feared for you and repeatedly I called Alexander's name, but he did not listen, he was blinded by fury, his sight turning red as blood and even now I can still see you pointing at me, calling me "Sycophant!"... Even though you knew better, even though you knew how I defended myself, in my own way – in a way that would have devastated Alexander had he ever known...

He never knew.

Even now, he does not know that I have been sneaking to you, to numb my pain by allowing you to degrade me. He does not know that only your mercilessness could heal the wounds I suffered because of his coldness.

He does not know.

He will never know – in his eyes I will forever remain the one that stayed at his side, quiet and without complaining, even though he was trampling on my heart. He does not know how I avenged myself – and how I punished myself for loving him so much.

Even now – he just does not see me.

Now it is Stateira who blinds him, and Bagoas is allowed to come to him from time to time – but I, I am the general, the viceroy, the chiliarch – highly respected and feared by all others. They hate me – and the only one I could turn to, that one is dead...

Cleitos, you are dead, and you took our secret with you.

I had been up to you to shove it into his face – how easy it would have been to add those few words.

"Your beloved Hephaistion – do you not wonder what he is doing while you are spending your nights with your Eastern lovers? Do you not wonder what he is doing? Ask him – ask him where he is in all those nights, ask him who kisses him sore, who gives it to him, ask him where he goes, whom he is begging to hurt him, to scatch him, to bite him, to beat him... ask him, ASK HIM!"

Oh, Cleitos, it would have been so easy.

It would have been your triumph.

But you kept your silence.

My eyes are watering when I think about it.

You loved me more than he did – you protected me with your silence.

You hated me, Cleitos.

You loved me.

And I loved you, black Cleitos.

I tried to prevent it. I knew, one more word from you and Alexander would act. He warned you, Cleitos – he told you, "Go quickly – before you ruin your life!"... but you would not listen, carried on speaking, and then Alexander rose, I took old of him, tried to hold him back, he would have killed you with his bare hands, Cleitos, did you not see it, that glimmer in his eyes? That rage? Did you not know how much you reminded him of his father?

Oh yes, you knew. That was why you said all those things.

I know you, my Cleitos... you always knew the right thing to say and do. You knew how to affect – how to hurt – how to kill...

Only from your own self you could not save yourself.

Cleitos...

He is slipping out of my grip, I cannot hold him back any longer, he is blinded with rage, Cleitos...

CLEITOS!

I can still see Alexander's spear running through you, impaling you, murdering you... and how I can not grasp what is happening...

You are dead, Cleitos, and no one will ever be like you, no one, never.

I miss you so, Cleitos...

I miss you infinitely...

The papyrus drops from my hand.

I stare at the fire burning brightly before me. I will stand now and burn everything I ever held dear.

When I have burned it, everything is gone – every memory of you, my Cleitos.

How am I supposed to carry on living without you?

Epilogue to follow – BUT: Everyone considering themselves easily perplexed, should probably refrain from reading. It just came to me and the story in itself actually IS finished – this epilogue is just some evil notion to cap it all off, for fans of black humor, you might say. ;-)


	4. Chapter 4

**Epilogue**

"Never have I wanted for this to happen, Phaistion!", you say suddenly; I have not even noticed you entering.

And I have not noticed you standing behind me – reading every word I have written.

Every single thing I wrote, about Cleitos, about – everyone, everything.

And your voice sounds broken to my ears as you wrap your arms around me and nuzzle my head with yours.

"If only you would have said something, Phaistion! Why did you suffer so in silence, instead of coming to me and telling me all this?"

I pull him close and look deeply into his tear-filled eyes.

"How can I ever make up for all this, Phaistion? How can I make up for all this suffering I have caused you? Dry all those tears you have wept because of me..? I would dearly love to do that, believe me... I have felt the same, believe it or not..."

"You?", I ask in disbelief and you nod, wipe away those tears and caress my hair that is probably hanging into my face messily.

"Yes, I have felt the same – only from the other side. Believe me – I, too, have suffered. And above all I did not know what to do to get close to you. You were so distant and often hostile... and I have known about Cleitos. I have watched you; you have not noticed for sure. I have watched the both of you... again and again, I have been your shadow... and I have suffered with you... but I never knew why you were doing it, why you endured everything he did to you... that I was to blame! Phaistion, I cannot tell you how sorry I am... and I want it to end, I want no more suffering for either of us, that – we..."

I put an end to his stammering by kissing him deeply and vigorously. And I ask myself how blind I have been through all those years.

How could I have not seen him – how could I have been ignorant of his feelings? How great was my selfishness?

But all this is over now, this I promise to myself. For now that I have him here in my arms and me make love for the first time, everything is right and good, and it seems this is the way it was supposed to be from the beginning, that in another time and place everything would have been different – that we would have been spared all this pain, if...

If HE had not been...

And while I am loosing myself in the arms of the one who has brought so much suffering for me without ever intending to – an unbelievable plan forms inside of me.

Unspeakable.

So unspeakable that I almost do not dare to make it known to him afterwards – but that is the way it has to be.

He looks at me with beautiful, wide brown eyes, and in them I recognize love – pure, undivided love.

And I have to hear it, I have to know it before I can put my trust in him.

"Do you love me?", I ask and he nods, again close to tears. But I want to know more, this is not enough. I do not yet trust him completely.

"Do you love him also?"

The question is out of my mouth and without missing a heartbeat he shakes his head vigorously.

"Then what is it that draws you to him, Bagoas?" I want to know. I have a right to know, after all those years, after all this suffering.

"He is my master", he responds, simple and direct, and he lowers his head as he continues. "He is my king and I serve him. Iwas used to serve in every way. Never was I asked if I wanted to or not – I served – with my body. Never did I serve with my soul. This I kept for myself – until I saw you for the first time, back then in Babylon... As Sisygambis mistook you for the king – and I did so, too. I felt my heart reaching out to you, falling for you, but you were not king, HE was... and I also knew that your heart belonged to Sikander. Until I saw you with Cleitos – that confused me greatly. But I did not know why you were doing this. I thought you were his', solely and completely... but now that I have read, I understand. All those nights, Phaistion – I never had one moment of happiness, and you were lonely – he has made both of us unhappy."

Still I hesitate.

But then I pluck up my courage.

I put forward the plan that has invaded my mind.

November: Hephaistion dies in Ekbatana.

The following June: Alexander dies in Babylon.

Bagoas is smiling as he crawles under the covers, joining me.

We are in Samarkand.

No one knows us, no one bothers us.

The gold we took along will gift us with a comfortable life.

Here, in Samarkand, everything is possible. We are modest, and we live.

And we love.

There is no one left that makes us kneel before them. There is no one left we call King. The king is dead, and only we know why he died.

The poison Bagoas gave me in Ekbatana effected me long enough to make me appear dead, and short enough to allow me to flee. The body Alexander burned with great pomp was that of a servant that died shortly before, by coincidence.

Bagoas remained at Alexander's side for eight month afterwards, while I was already waiting for him in Samarkand. Then, Alexander died and the poison, oh Erinyes, the poison was prepared by myself. For always have poisons and concoctions been my art, I never stopped concerning myself with them. The sciences have never ceased to captivate me.

And Bagoas, my little, beautiful, beloved Bagoas handed him the goblet from which he greedily drank the wine... mixed with the best, most fatal and undetectable poison my repertoire holds.

Yes, he watched his master die – and maybe he felt regret this very moment, but he never showed it.

Alexander crumpled to the floor with a loud cry, the goblet slipping from his fingers, and he never rose again.

As I can hear, people are still trying to solve the riddle of how the Great Alexander, for that is what they call him now, found his death.

However – I am not concerned by it, for I have been dead before him.

I have been dead for years.

Bagoas was the one who resurrected me. – and unfortunate Cleitos, may the gods be merciful in the halls of everlasting darkness, out of whose hands I received the pain that made me alive.

Alexander has his glory – and I have my love.

fin


End file.
